Ciel's Revenge
by HeartElyse
Summary: Can Ciel truly bear the blood that has been spilled? Can Ciel truly stand the weight of his revenge? Rated M for blood only. NOT YAOI. Cover Image not mine.


**Hey guys!**

 **So, this is basically what happens when I get writer's block! This is a piece inspired by the song, Johnny's Revenge by Crown the Empire. I heard it while watching a Black Butler AMV and although I disliked the amount of screaming that was in it, I thought it really suited the story, Ciel's desire for revenge especially.**

 **This is an abstract piece, so you can interpret it in anyway you like. Just a warning; this piece is rated M for the amount of blood that is in it. That is the only reason. So, if the thought of blood makes you feel queasy, than I advise you don't read.**

 **Reader's discretion is advised. I've always wanted to say that.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

XXX

 ** _Ciel's Revenge_**

The blood spewed up from the depths of the black, defiled ground like a fountain bubbling up plumes of replenishing water. Yet here, there was no pristine, crystalline water to speak of. There was only blood, a dense, curdling rill of red, oozing out of the fen like a wound that could not be smothered. It rippled placidly against the howling gale, eerily still and timid, despite how its surroundings roared in utter heartbreak and rage.

Ciel observed as the small rivulet lapped lazily at his heeled boots, painting the dark leather a tar-like crimson. Both eyes were free and watching, wide with horror, yet smouldering with hate. An awful sickness writhed within his stomach, and began to creep steadily upwards. He swallowed, battling the urge to gag.

The thick stream belonged to his parents.

It frothed in a slow burn, extracting further anguish from Ciel the longer it chose to pour. Sadly, Ciel was aware more than anyone that his parents' blood - despite their corpses now boneless and cold in their graves - would never stop pouring.

The river rose a little.

Now joining its throws was a small measure of his own blood, blood that had been spilled since the very beginning of his existence. It was not a mortal flood, but it was enough to make Ciel's features shrivel in grand revulsion at the memories that stirred in concession to it. Too much of his blood had been stolen over the years, by means that he did not wish to recollect now, or ever if he could help it.

A gush sounded and the currents quickened and grew thicker to the point in which the blood exceeded Ciel's ankles. It filled the boy with a savage, unholy satisfaction.

It was the blood of his captors. The blood he could now revise seeing splattered upon the marble floors of that wretched room of damnation, pooled beneath their ravished, shredded bodies, their final bed to rest and sleep upon. And what a bed they deserved.

The gaping maw in the earth abruptly expanded as another flux of blood pressed its way through, rising the torrent to Ciel's knees. A heaviness stifled Ciel's heart.

The blood of Madam Red. It reflected her eyes; passionate spheres of crimson glaring upon him, releasing silent screams of loathing for the life she led, and yet releasing soundless wails of sorrow for all that had been unfairly taken from her. It possessed a nauseating beauty that caused Ciel's lungs to stutter and his very soul to ache. How terribly garish and cruel it all was. The irony was suffocating.

A dribble of something sticky and warm slid beneath Ciel's collar and down the length of his spine, making a shudder waver his bones. Casting his eyes upwards, terror doused him at the sight of scarlet rain pattering down softly from an equally bloody sky.

The blood of the nameless. The blood that had been drained dry as a result of his unswerving desire for revenge. The blood that he had forced himself never to acknowledge in fear that madness would surely follow. This blood had never touched his own hands, but it might as well of been his own hands that were blamed for the spillage anyway. After all, he was the one with the weapon in his hands, and he was the one who told it to shoot.

The rain gradually escalated to the point in which it was pummelling down, battering the ground within a frenzy of misery, turning the vast brook into an overflowing sea of congealing claret. It soaked Ciel in its gruesome folds, coating his meagre body entirely in liquid rust. Clots of it managed to chug their way down his throat, scolding as it brushed along the delicate flesh of his oesophagus, making him choke. The blood had ascended to his waist now, and he flailed and writhed within its implacable depths, striving earnestly for escape from its silky tendrils that kept him tethered to its ferocious tides, yet it was to no avail.

Hovering a jittering, blood-cloyed hand over his cursed eye, Ciel, despite his asphyxiation, managed to belt out, "SEBASTIAN!"

Ciel waited in fret as he felt himself being sucked beneath the churning waves, his feet dislodging from level ground and slipping away, and yet nothing answered him but a horrid, chilling laugh, so serrated that it tore his very nerves to smithereens. And as his head was lost under the surface, a frigid voice simpered in his ear, clawing the very breath from his lungs and turning his veins to ice.

"This is the weight of revenge, my Lord... Are you certain that you can truly bear its burden?"


End file.
